His Private Ghost
by rhyejess
Summary: Another ghost!Jack story... Mostly happy.
1. Chapter 1

_Annie Proulx's brilliant characters, and I make no profit from them._

I promise I did write this on Halloween, and before I read the similar-yet-better versions of other authors.

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His Private Ghost

It started small. Things weren't where he thought he put them. Put down a coffee cup by the sink, find it on the table. Put a pack of cigs on the table, find it by the sink. And weren't there seven? Six now.

Find a butt floatin' in the toilet. He didn't smoke that, did he? Did he?

He thought he must be sleep-walkin', an' it were a private shame. He didn't think too much on it 'cause he wanted it ta go away.

Wanted it ta go away when he got home from a day a work an' found his bed unmade. Wanted it ta go away when he got home from work an' found his mostly-empty pantry spilled out on the floor. What the hell? Couldn't be he was sleep-walkin'. Someone was getting in his place.

Even so, Ennis didn't get too alarmed. Could be he was goin' crazy. Felt like it most days anyway. Didn't want a tell no one in case that was the truth.

But one morning Ennis got up an' groped into his closet for a clean work shirt, an' knew, just like that, it couldn't be him doing these things. Couldn't be. Wasn't.

For, right there on the door a his closet, where those two skins of twenty years of life an' goin' on this second year of Jack's death, Ennis's-- what?-- maybe death too, right there where they made one skin. Right there where everyday kept that plaid folded around blue denim-- Ennis finally holdin' on to Jack like he shoulda done long time ago-- right there, only this time, this time--

Denim was holdin' on to plaid.

Ennis knew what was goin' on like some instinct he didn't know he had, like how you know what ta do when your horse is throwin' you, even though it happens quickly, it happens slowly, too. Be a lie not ta say it scared him, but he didn't say nothin'. Shiny-eyed, he switched them shirts back and went to work. When he got home, he heated up some beans he'd put back in his pantry, dropped a pack of smokes on the table, an' went to bed.

An' that was how things was for a while. Ennis stopped makin' the bed, knew Jack was usin' it days. Flushed a butt or two of a morning. Started buyin' things other than beans so they wouldn't be dumped on the floor. Put on a couple pounds that way. An' every evening, he threw a pack on the table, switched those shirts, an' dropped off ta dream sweet dreams an' salty of Jack.

Some mornings, Jack hadn't been around, Ennis's dreams hadn't been too good, but those days grew fewer an' fewer. Even on those days when the wind was cold and buffeted his small trailer, Ennis's waking hours were suffesed with a sense of peace, because Jack Twist was in his life.

Until one day the bank came to drag his trailer away an' Ennis moved in with Junior an' Kurt.

Ennis hadn't felt more fearful in a long time, worried that his private ghost-- ghost he never talked to, never mentioned, never feared no more, the ghost of a man he took in his arms in the night, talked to him then, only then, because he couldn't bear if only silence answered him in waking hours-- worried that this private ghost wouldn't follow him.

Worried, too, that he would.

But Jack did follow Ennis. Ennis should a known he would. The shirts switched at Junior's, and his smokes disappeared, an' sometimes Junior would gripe about butts or ashes here or there, 'bout things bein' moved, 'bout hearin' her back porch rocker middle a the night one time.

That next night, Ennis took his beer out to the back porch with his smokes, blew smoke up inta the night air. Drinkin' an' smokin', Ennis didn't even pretend to be startled when the rocker next ta him started ta creak.

"Come you never talk ta me?"

"Didn't know you'd answer."

"Hell, I'm dead, not mute."

"Well, I don't know how this works here, Jack."

"Yeah."

The chairs moved, creaking through the silence for a while, 'til Ennis took a gamble, held out his pack towards the other chair. He watched in wonder as the pack crinkled, a smoke lifted an' waited expectantly. Ennis mumbled what was meant as (an' he knew it would be taken as such) an apology, and lifted a flame to Jack's smoke. Ennis watched the end flame up and the smoke drift lazily up towards heaven.

"You ought to quit these things."

"Mmm."

"No, I'm serious. Look, I'm right here. Don't kill yourself on my account."

"Maybe."

"Not maybe. Not goin' nowhere."

Silence fell down from the crystal stars and they both stopped their rockings, lost in thoughts. Ennis watched the stars for a second before he said, "I miss seein' you, Jack."

He heard a sound like a hard exhalation off to his left.

"I miss yer smiles, an' yer eyes, Christ, an', an' yer smartass smirk," Ennis smiled to himself, more things missed, but not mentionable even now.

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

"But you waited long time. Reckon you can wait a while longer."

"Sometimes I think maybe I'm goin' crazy."

Jack snickered, and Ennis thought it was the most beautiful sound he ever heard. His eyes went wet an' thick.

"You was always crazy, Ennis."

"Yeah, 'cause you done drive me crazy." Ennis smiled through his eyeshine.

"Well, least if yer crazy, it's a good one, ain't it? Ya got me, an' ya don't gotta be scared 'bout nothin'."

"Sure 'nough. Cept'n yer spooky ass."

Jack laughed again.

They sat an' talked all night, talked even 'bout the bad things, 'bout how Jack died, 'bout what they done to each other, 'bout how it was nice ta live together, have each other everyday after all.

Ennis did eventually move back out. Junior always did worry about her father. He'd developed some forgetfulness in where he put things, started talkin' to himself when he thought no one was around.

He didn't die for another twenty four years, an' when he went it was at home in his rough shack, in bed. He hadn't smoked for years, but there was a butt on the nightstand. Junior hated the fact that he'd died alone, but there it was. They buried him behind the Methodist Church, along with his most treasured things, some of which seemed to involve another man, but Junior didn't think about that too hard. Her daddy was bein' put to rest, so she thought it best to put it all to rest along with him.


	2. Chapter 2

_Annie Proulx's brilliant characters, and I make no profit from them._

_It was going to be a one-shot, but the bug bit me and I decided to make this a series. I promise plenty of mundane life and a little bit of fluff in the future. But it will skirt slowly into fantasy. Let's see if anyone is willing to follow me there... Unbeta'd._

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Chapter 2  
"Where we goin?"

Ennis grumbled internally. It was one of those days. Some days, now since they'd talked, Jack chattered on at him incessantly. Other days, he didn't hardly say or do nothin' besides drain Ennis's cigarettes. Both kind a days were infuriating, and Ennis wondered if he and Jack could have made a life together after all, or if he might have killed Jack. But he didn't really mind. The voice reminded him that Jack was there, but also reminded him that Jack wasn't there, not wholly, and burnt Ennis with a pang of pain. The silence was just as bad, as Ennis was starting to suspect there was something haunting 'bout those silences, something goin' on in them he couldn't understand, since they were so unlike Jack ta have.

"Got us a place out on Kruger Pass. Man out there needs someone ta help look after his stock, so I took the job." Ennis didn't even hesitate to use the word us. He had no doubts Jack was coming along.

"Jesus, Ennis, you ought to look for some more decent work than ta be a ranch hand."

"Don't know nothin' else."

Jack made a noise, and Ennis continued packing his single duffel bag, just the old Army kind from a surplus store.

"Well, I think this is a good opportunity." Yup, a talkative night for sure.

"For what, huh?"

"For you to quit smokin'."

"Christ, Jack, will ya lay off a me?"

"That what you want, huh? Me to go away and let you be? Let you smoke yourself to death?"

Ennis exhaled and rubbed his eyes. Jack was insecure on this topic, thought maybe haunting Ennis wouldn't be wanted. Ennis had been haunted by Jack since he was nineteen. It was a relief to at least have someone ta talk about it to. They'd been though this a half dozen times, and Ennis knew Jack wasn't goin' nowhere. "Shit," he muttered.

Jack continued. "Well, I aim to see you get old enough that you don't got the breath to swear at me no more, and in order ta do that, you gotta quit smokin'."

"I been smokin' since I was fourteen."

"Then I reckon you had more'n your share."

Ennis just shook his head and finished packing. The truth was, Jack in this state could make Ennis do just about anything he wanted. Ennis knew that well enough. He got ready for the night, switched those shirts, and laid down against the bed. "Night, Jack."

"Yup."

The place was alright, long and skinny. The door entered into the kitchen, which was divided from the bedroom by most of a wall that went neither to the other wall nor to the ceiling. The small bathroom was at the end of the kitchen. The roof pitched funny and had a few low beams. The floor was concrete, and cold as shit, despite a pretty sturdy-looking kerosene heater pluggin' away full-tilt. The queen-size bed was metal and old, the mattress dented with the shapes of too many bodies. Several windows lined walls on both sides, making it a bright place. One long, tilted table flanked a bench seat in the kitchen. The hallway through the bedroom proceeded to another door, which opened onto a porch and swing on a little grassy area, complete at with a picnic table. It was on the perimeter of the spread, and Ennis kept his truck parked by the main door.

"Not exactly a foreman's place, huh?"

"Well, I ain't exactly a foreman."

Jack had half a mind to talk about Randall's place down in Texas, but there were some topics they never touched, and that was alright by him. Peace was the order of the day. They weren't trying to make this work in any sense of the word. They just were. Besides, hauntees weren't supposed to go giving haunters the third degree on their conquests. Least they didn't in stories. Jack had never had the pleasure of meeting another ghost to know what was supposed to happen at all.

Jack left the subject rest as much because he was havin' one of his bad days as for any other reason. He never told Ennis about them, but he figured Ennis knew. Some days Jack just felt so tired he couldn't hardly lift himself, would lie in Ennis's bed all day and just exist. Didn't waste no energy on words those days. Sometimes went two or three days without saying anything. It seemed to recharge him, though, because he was usually restless as a pup by then.

Stuff proceeded just exactly as it had at Junior's, only now he was alone all the time, he talked to Jack plenty, 'specially on those days when Jack wans't talking. Ennis figured he was talking more now than he ever had while Jack was alive. He also cooked better food.

And he woke up in the mornings sometimes to find all his packs a cigarettes had been flushed down the toilet.

But it was alright, because sometimes he came home from work to find dinner ready, or the grass mowed. That one amused Ennis. It was a good thing they lived in the middle a nowhere on the back of a rural spread, because a mower runnin' itself around his small yard would a sure been a sight to see. Not that Ennis was hankering to see it. he didn' like to see things move, really. Jack has somehow picked up on this, did all the movin' a stuff when Ennis wasn't around.

Truth was, seein' somethin' floatin' through the air was an unbearable reminder a what he didn't have, didn't have Jack proper. What Jack didn't have. Ennis knew Jack was a more social kind, liked drink and food and probably dancin' at a pool hall. And all Jack had now was an afternoon to mow his lawn and a day spent in bed. When Ennis thought on it too hard, it broke his heart. He hadn't blamed himself for Jack's death before, but livin' with him this way, he had no choice but to blame himself about that Jack wasn't really livin' a life.

"Why the hell you do that, huh?" Ennis was grumbling over a bowl a chili. Jack was a damn sight better of a cook than he had been years before.

"What's that I do?"

"You flushed the whole goddamn case in the toilet." Ennis's face flushed a little angry.

"Yeah."

"Well. Well, I paid good money for those."

"Maybe you ought to stop buyin' them, then."

"Like hell. You think you can do whatever you want 'round here. I'm damn near sick a it."

"I'm your ghost, not your housekeeper. I can damn well flush anything I want down the toilet."

"Not my money."

"If I wanted, I sure could, but I didn't make you spend it on cigarettes."

"Twist..." It sounded like a warning.

Jack laughed. "You're somethin' else, Ennis. Lookit you threatenin' a ghost."


End file.
